


I loved you once

by Littlevera



Category: X-Men (Movies)
Genre: M/M, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-10
Updated: 2011-11-10
Packaged: 2017-10-25 22:03:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littlevera/pseuds/Littlevera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An old lover of Logan's finds him; outsider pov.</p><p>7_automatic has very generously done a Chinese translation of this <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4698272">here.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	I loved you once

The mansion rises above me impressively.

There’s no mistaking the feel of old money and wealth about this place. It makes me feel slightly uncomfortable in my suit and tie, one that I haven’t worn in years. The grounds extend around the mansion as far as I can see, just in case I missed that whoever lives here has money to spare. I never thought I’d find Logan somewhere like this. Up ahead, Dr McCoy waits for me patiently. I wonder what he’ll think if I burst into laughter right here in front of his fancy mansion at the thought of Logan inside. Instead, I restrain myself, and run my hands through my hair before I adjust my coat. It’s only then that I catch myself. It’s twenty five years later, and this morning I stood in front of my mirror wondering if Logan would see the man he once knew in the grey hair and the wrinkled skin looking back at me. And then I reminded myself he has amnesia.

Amnesia.

Of all the things I thought when I glimpsed him at the press conference, Logan not remembering me wasn’t even on the list. The man I knew wore his past like a shield, he needed it. I look up at the mansion again, and start up the stairs to Dr McCoy. This place… it’s not the Logan I know at all.  
******

Inside, the cool settles over me like a blanket, making it hard to breathe. It’s cold, this place with its high walls and huge staircases. The Logan I know would hate this place.

But then, I hear the kids laughing.

That doesn’t belong here either. The jagged edges of their laughter cut through my first impressions of the mansion. Dr McCoy said this was a school, to do with mutants I suspect, but I haven’t asked him for any more information than he’s willing to give. I think my knowledge of Logan’s mutation made him more wary of me. I don’t much care. I just need to see Logan.

I follow Dr McCoy to an office, my cane tapping against the floor. I admire the restraint he shows waiting for me. He’s nothing like I expected when I called his office to explain that I was just an old friend of Logan’s. He slowly, but firmly, quashed any expectation I had of a reunion. For one, he didn’t believe me. I think there are parts of my story he still doesn’t quite believe. I know most of my records in the army are sealed and Secretary of Mutant Affairs or not, my full records would still be out of his reach.

“Ready?” he asks with a forced gentleness.

I nod. But, can anyone be ever ready to see someone they thought they’d loved and lost?  
******

“This is the guy that’s supposed to know all about me?”

There’s no mistaking the disbelief in his voice, as much as there’s no doubt that he wants me to know I’m going to have a fight making him believe me.

I expected no less from him; instead I let him have this moment. I am more than content to watch him standing there, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. It’s been years since I’ve seen him, but he still looks the same.

It’s really him.

He told me once that along with the ability to heal, his mutation could mean that he’d never age the same way as everyone else. He confessed that he looked no different than when he’d hit thirty. By then I had already seen him die, so that revelation was easier to bear. I’d laughed and replied that I looked forward to being the older man in our relationship. It was a joke, muttered into his skin as he lay next to me, and he’d laughed too. I’d seen what his body was capable of, and it fascinated me, but to me, time could not be outrun.

Now, Logan sniffs at me disdainfully, before he prowls around the room and I _know_ he’s watching me. I wonder if it’ll mean anything to him that he did this the first time we met too. At Andy’s request he’d been assigned to protect us. I’d been willing to defer to Andy’s judgment on this, our case was too important to lose and we couldn’t afford to let any threats distract us from our investigation. Having someone watch our backs was the best idea we could come up with. I’d expected someone angry at being assigned to baby-sit a couple of army lawyers, but Logan kind of blew all my expectations away.

The nameplate on the desk in front of me registers, before the man behind the desk does. His expression is open and friendly, like he expected to be the last thing I’d see. I don’t trust him at all.

“Charles Xavier.” Xavier wheels himself around the desk extending his hand.

I guess I should be surprised seeing him in the wheelchair, but I’m not. I figure he must do that to throw people off once they meet him. Unfortunately for him, Logan is my priority here. I grasp his offered hand firmly, and he holds on a little longer than I expect. I can still feel Logan watching me, and for the strangest reason time seems to stand still.

“Sit down, please,” Xavier says gesturing at the couch.

I shake my head sharply, feeling like I’m just waking up, like someone flicked a switch and the world started moving again. I’d like to be done with the show of politeness, but for now I’m content to let Xavier and Logan lead the conversation. Logan, for one, is behind the couch and from what I can see he’s waiting on Xavier. I barely catch the sharp nod Xavier gives Logan once I sit.

Logan comes around to stand with Xavier leaving no doubt that I’m on my own here. Like this, I can see the lines at the corner of his eyes and around his mouth. The slight stubble is new for me, but he’s still the Logan I remember. Still in his jeans and t-shirt, which seems oddly appropriate considering it’s what I saw him wear last.

“So, you’re here because you saw me on TV?”

I nod, not trusting my voice yet. My throat is dry, the words I’d mulled over constantly to introduce myself to him suddenly stuck in my throat. Logan scowls. He expected more, I can see that much, but there isn’t anything else to my story. Calling Dr McCoy was the first thing I did after I saw them on TV at the press conference.

“You should hear what he has to say.”

Of all people, I didn’t expect Xavier to be in my corner. He delivers that genially, however next to him, Logan stiffens. He doesn’t question Xavier’s assertion, which isn’t the Logan I know. He’s used… was used to looking out for himself. I hope Xavier cherishes the trust Logan obviously has in him, because _my_ Logan didn’t trust easily, not if it hadn’t been earned. It’s something else seeing someone you love, someone you’ve slept with, look at you without a hint of recognition in his eyes. The emptiness there hits me like a punch to the gut. I knew this coming here, I did. But nothing would have been enough to prepare me for what I see in him.

Nothing.

This was never going to be a reunion, I remind myself firmly. I force myself to hold on to that.

“Are you alright?” Dr McCoy asks. His question is earnest, and though his concern is claustrophobic, I manage to nod. The door opens then, distracting me. The last thing I want is someone else in on our meeting when all I want to do is talk to Logan.

“Sorry I’m late,” the man says when he enters.

It’s only then that Logan relaxes. It’s just a moment, but there’s no mistaking the expression on his face as anything but relief. He pauses briefly when he sees me watching him, but he recovers quickly enough. I can’t place what it is about the new guy that bothers me, not with those sunglasses on. I can see myself reflected in red, and briefly wonder if he too is a mutant. It would explain the sunglasses. He strides across to me, holding out his hand.

“I’m Scott Summers.”

His introduction is polite, like he learned it at Xavier’s knee. However, his grip is firm, engulfing my own hand easily enough. He holds on just enough for me to realize that Mr Summers here doesn’t like me. He may put up with me for Logan’s sake, but he doesn’t want me here at all. He lets my hand go, and adjusts his sunglasses a little. Those things make it hard to read him, but I think I might manage a little better than I first thought.

Logan, I can see well enough, he’s just got eyes for Scott.

Scott. Of course…Scott.

I don’t know why I didn’t expect this, expect Logan to be with someone…but the thought never occurred to me. Seconds tick by, too long to pretend that Scott doesn’t get to me.

“Nice to meet you,” I try, attempting to reply in kind. Logan turns to me sharply, but I force myself not to react. Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, jealousy will come across as plain as day, even twenty five years later. But that’s all Scott is going to get from me. I’m here to see Logan, and I focus on trying to maintain the façade of civility we seem to have going. Scott, for his part, seems to get the pregnant silence in the room then, looking between Logan and me briefly.

“I think it’s time Hank and I excused ourselves,” Xavier says smoothly, interrupting the moment.

He wheels himself out, with Dr McCoy at his side. Scott closes the door behind them. He’s young, I think, but he dresses like he wants to appear older than he is. It doesn’t quite work, not for me at any rate, not when the ache in my bones is harder to ignore, as is my cane. There are more years than I care to think about between him and I, and it hurts knowing it. Seeing him here, at Logan’s back, like he’s meant to be.

“Well?” Logan asks belligerently.

I’ve seen enough to know when I’m the one being interrogated, and enough to recognize Logan’s MO. As much as I knew not to expect a friendly welcome, looking up at his face tight in anger, briefly, I wonder if I should have come at all.

“Logan…” Scott tries, but Logan shakes his head violently.

“No, he just walked off the street and claims he knows me, Scott. I’m don’t have to believe anything he says.”

I can hear the fear beneath those words. It hits home again that I’m just a face to him, no better than a stranger he’d pass in the street, coming in to tell him stories about a life he never knew he had. I clutch the cane between my knees, and reach under my collar for the dog tags. I don’t know what good they’ll do, but when Dr McCoy told me about his amnesia, I knew I had to bring them. They were all I had left of him and I put them on this morning for the first time in years. Already it feels uncomfortable not feeling them against my chest.

Logan pales when I hold it out to him, and behind him, Scott isn’t faring any better. Surprise becomes confusion before he frowns angrily. I can’t help the twinge of satisfaction at getting that reaction from him. Logan, however, looks at the dog tags like they’re about to attack him. My arm begins to hurt, and … he’s not going to take them. My hand falls, the tags heavy in my palm.

“You gave these to me the day you left. You said you’d come back for them one day.”

I knew better than to expect him to return, but I thought…I thought our relationship meant enough to him to leave those behind. Andy told me the same thing, and I nodded and said I’d expected no less. However, I still went looking for him months later, with Andy’s help. I submitted all the right requests, and with Andy’s support they were hard to ignore. But we didn’t find him. After a while, it was easy to convince myself that he could die, that his mutation wouldn’t keep him alive forever. That way, in my head, he’d always intended to return to me. I wanted to believe that so much.

I still kept the dog tags. I wondered sometimes, after I’d lost Jesse, I wondered about the things Logan had said. About feeling like he could live forever. He’d relished the thought, but after burying Jesse, there’s nothing I wanted less.

He reaches for the tags, catching himself at the last moment when he realizes what he’s doing. I meet him halfway, offering the tags to him again. He picks them up delicately, though the chain is still knotted around my fingers. I hold on for just a minute, enough to see that he’s beginning to believe me now that he sees I have these. Logan tugs at the tags, and the beads ripple against my skin as he pulls them from me. He collapses in the seat next to me, turning them over and over in his hands as if they’d give up their story to him.

I’m here, I think, caught for a moment when I turn back to Logan. I can see the subtle changes in his features that show he’s aged some. There are no scars under the light stubble, but that’s not a surprise either. I reach for him out of habit, but I catch myself too late. My fingers brush his clasped hands lightly before he starts and I pull away.

I wanted to ask him once, what it was like outliving the people around him, but I never could.

“They’re mine,” he says brokenly, looking at Scott.

Scott stiffens, and if anything his expression hardens. He’s been content to watch Logan and I talk, but now I can see the muscle in his jaw throb, and his hands curl around the edges of the desk he’s leaning against.

“What?” I blurt out, looking between them. “Of course, they’re yours. You gave them to me.”

Logan looks at me blankly, and I’m sure that he hasn’t really heard me. He swallows thickly, the expression on his face strangely tentative. “I have dog tags,” he continues, as if I hadn’t spoken. “They have the same number on them.”

He got another pair after he left me.

Such a simple answer, and I have to laugh because it had never crossed my mind. He got another pair, another lover, another assignment… I press back into the couch, half-wishing that I could disappear into the corner. He got another pair. Logan stands, offering the dog tags to Scott.

Somehow I’d convinced myself that the tags meant something, that the lack of them meant something to Logan back then. How could I have been so wrong?

“You and me…did we…I mean, were we …” his voice trails off uncomfortably, and despite myself, I blush.

“Yeah, we were.”

His expression freezes, as if he didn’t expect me to actually confirm that we’d had a relationship. He rubs his hands over his face roughly, while Scott’s expression is…accusing. Like I came here to hurt Logan, like I’m doing this deliberately. Protectiveness I can understand, but I sure as hell am not going to let anything stop me from telling Logan everything I can.

“How did we meet?”

I look up at him at that, noting how rough his voice is, as if he’s not sure he wants to ask that question. He pauses, and I see him steeling himself for my answer. Thankfully, our story, the one I came here to tell, is far simpler than he expects. We worked together. I haven’t spoken of it in years, not even to Jesse, who I gave up my life in the army for. Jesse understood what classified meant, and he’d never pushed to know about my life in the army. I pretend I’m in court, I pretend that it’s an opening argument so I can actually tell Logan this story. I tell him about the case, about working with Andy tracking down the links between American labs and the soldiers that were ferrying information back and forth to Vietnam. I tell Logan about the threats we received, about Andy calling him for help knowing that Logan would never let him down.

“Where is he?” Logan asks, returning to his seat. His expression is a mixture of restraint and hope all at once. “Can I talk to him? Maybe he’ll be able to tell me something about…” My throat closes painfully at his eagerness, at the hope in those words. Scott is looking at me intently, and I can see the moment that understanding dawns for him at my lack of a reaction.

“He died, Logan,” I confess, cutting him off, “about twelve years ago.” Andy was gone because of a fucking accident and a drunk driver.

Logan’s face falls. Scott moves then, his anger at my presence giving in to his concern as he pushes off the desk, to hover near Logan’s shoulder. He hesitates, his hand settling on Logan’s shoulder briefly. He looks like he wants to do more than just that, but I know he won’t. I wouldn’t.

“How did we know each other?” he asks gruffly. He doesn’t look up, focusing instead on the dog tags in his hands.

“You… you were best friends, Logan.” He looks up in painful surprise at that, and I take that as my cue to continue. “ You’d been friends for years before you and I met. As far as I know, you saved his life, and he trusted you with it. He called you for help, and you came.”

“I saved his life? How?” he asks, pouncing on that. “Where did we work together? In the army?”

I shake my head sharply, and he stops finally.

“A lot of what you and Andy did was classified, Logan. I don’t know the details of how you met.”

His shoulders sag at that, and I regret so much that I have no more to tell him, to explain who Andy was to him.

“He…he was your best friend,” I repeat helplessly. “He trusted you with his life and with mine. I wish…” I wish a lot of things, but I can’t bring myself to say them any more. Andy deserved better than this, from us both.

“He helped me look for you after you left,” I continue, “but we didn’t have the right clearances to find you. Eventually, we had to accept that we weren’t going to find you.” That he was dead, but I don’t say that part out loud. It wasn’t easy for either of us, but we tried everything we could think of.

“Clearance? Tell us about that.” Scott asks abruptly. The question demands to be answered and he sounds like someone who is used to getting the answers he wants. My first instinct is to resist, to focus on Logan, but this is about him in the end.

“Logan was with Army Intelligence, when I met him,” I reply, never taking my eyes off Logan. In my mind’s eye, he’s walking into our makeshift offices in New York in his dress uniform, smirking at me. “That much I do know. It was the only way he could get the plug pulled on our case.”

That goes over real well. Logan growls as if he’s in pain, while Scott pales and begins to pace the length of the office before he catches himself and returns to watching Logan. I wonder if he ever takes those glasses off, if Logan is constantly faced with that barrier between them. I can’t imagine how he’s able to stand it.

“Did he ever mention someone called William Stryker?” Scott asks, breaking the silence between us. The words are thin, almost as if he’s afraid what I’ll say too.

“Not that I know of,” I reply, mulling over the name. It doesn’t sound familiar at all. “But he knew better than to talk about his work, and I knew better than to ask too much.”

Logan hisses in frustration at my answer, but I don’t have much else to tell him. We dealt in secrets. There was no way around it.

“Tell me more about the case,” he asks, leaving the topic of Andy behind without a second thought. I want to talk about Andy more, I want to tell him how they were good together, friends through and through. That they would die for each other.

But, Logan is ready to move on. It makes me glad Andy isn’t here to see this.

“Like I said, Andy and I were investigating soldiers who were taking information back and forth from labs here in New York to those in Vietnam. Andy and I thought the labs here in New York would be the best place to start.”

“New York? We were here the entire time?” Logan asks quizzically.

“Well, yeah. That’s the reason Andy wanted you around. You knew this city, Logan, because you’d lived here before.” His surprise should be easier to bear, but it’s not. Scott is the same, adjusting his sunglasses nervously.

“Go on…” Scott prods, nudging the conversation forward again. Logan doesn’t protest, instead he seems caught in the dog tags once again.

“We always suspected the labs had been carrying out experiments on humans,” I continue cautiously, wondering what else is going on between them. “But we never found enough proof.”

And that’s when the air seems to get sucked out of the room. I look between their stricken expressions, knowing there’s something here I’m missing.

Logan shifts uncomfortably next to me, one hand rubbing the knuckles of the other absently. He looks at Scott briefly, who in turn shrugs. It seems to be exactly the reaction Logan was waiting for.

“I told you about my powers, didn’t I?” Logan murmurs, soft enough that I almost miss it. I don’t think I’ll ever forget what happens next. Watching his skin on his knuckles split and those things emerge.

They gleam in the light.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Logan apologizes, but I hear the words as if from a distance, mesmerized instead by the sharp edges of those things.

“Who did this to you?” I demand roughly. Hurt him, put those things in him.

My hands curl around my cane tightly. It’s something to do, something other than reaching for Logan. Logan looks uncomfortable some, but I don’t care. I want to know who would hurt him like this. Scott flushes when I ask him, eventually shrugging.

“We don’t really know. We don’t know who started it, and there’s always the possibility it’s still going on.”

“What is?”

“Experimenting on mutants,” Logan mumbles. No, no my mind rebels at the thought, at Logan, in the middle of all this. It takes a while to catch up with their questions, with what they’re not saying.

“No,” I shake my head firmly. “No, back then, the things we were investigating, the technology couldn’t do _this_.”

“It had to have started somewhere,” Logan says quietly. No. No. I shake my head, refusing to buy this. Logan wouldn’t do this, not to himself and not to anyone else.

“Then you’re saying you were part of this, Logan. You took the case from us.” He expression darkens before he shrugs nonchalantly.

“I could have been. You don’t know enough about me to say differently.”

That one stings. There’s frustration behind it, and I get he’s got to take it on someone, but I don’t deserve that.

“I was in love with you.” I return bluntly. “You had your secrets, I had mine. You asked me not to ask questions, so I didn’t. That was _our_ life, Logan. You’re the one who doesn’t remember, I’ve never forgotten.”

I run my hands through my hair, before I realize they’re shaking. I wrap them around my cane again, trying to compose myself.

“For the record, you told me you were a mutant; and second, you did love me.”

I say the words again, my throat drying. He may not have wanted to come back, but I can’t and I won’t believe he didn’t love me for the time that we were together. He told me his secrets, about his mutation. That had to mean something.

He flinches, but in the end they’re just words to him. I’m not sure if _any_ of it means anything to him. I dig out the photo from my pocket, and gesture for him to take it. Andy snapped it at the office late one night, when the case was driving us crazy and Logan forced us both to take a break. He managed to get food from somewhere, and Andy provided the alcohol and we tried to have an evening where we could just _be_. Well, we tried to anyway. He pulled his chair next to mine, and I can still feel his knee warm against my own. Andy snapped the photo while I was distracted by something in a file on my lap, but the expression on Logan’s face…he did love me.

Logan looks up at me, his jaw opening and closing but no words coming out this time. I think that’s the moment I give up. The man I knew did die a long time ago.

I shouldn’t have come. Our story isn’t epic, it’s just a small moment out of his life. I look between Logan and Scott, wondering if the latter ever thinks the same thing. There’s always going to be someone else for Logan, when Scott is nothing more than a memory.

“I’d like to go home now,” I announce stiffly, before I turn to Scott, “Could you please get Dr McCoy?”

He stiffens, a myriad of expressions flittering across his face. In the end, he waits on Logan instead, but he’s still staring at the photograph. It hurts to look at him, to look at the photo.

“Never mind…” I mutter heading for the door myself. Logan catches me before I can open the door, his hand closing over mine before he pulls me away.

“I’ll take you home,” Logan murmurs in my ear, and I can hear the apology in his voice. “Please.”

It’s the last that breaks our stalemate, that makes me move away from the door.

“I need to talk to Hank before we leave,” he continues, his eyes downcast. “I won’t be long.”

He slips away before I can say anything else, before I see Scott staring at the photo in his hand. He looks small standing in the office, hunched over the photo like that. I wonder if he’ll notice if I slip out.

“What was he like?”

He asks in all seriousness, his lips thinning when all he receives is my silence. I don’t want to tell him this, I want to keep that Logan for myself. However, there’s no denying that Scott’s question is asked in earnest.

“He was…easy to fall in love with,” I murmur, noting the way Scott’s expression darkens at that. I realize then, he’s the only one that will understand how I feel, and what it is to love Logan. Logan may try, but he’s never going to get what we had, no matter how much I talk to him about it. “I loved him because his best friend asked for his help, and he came. Because he trusted me with his secrets.” I realize I’m rambling, and shut my mouth. Scott looks as if he wants to hear more, but I don’t have anything more I want to tell him. There are things that are just mine.

“I’m sorry,” Scott says, nodding at the photo. I cringe inside at the apology, it’s nothing I wanted from him.

“Don’t be,” I reply, looking at him, wondering if I should dare to ask this question. In the end, I have nothing left to lose. “How can you stand it? Knowing he’s going to outlive you? You’re going to grow older and he’s just going to stay the same….” I just want to know if he ever thinks about it but instead I sound harsher than I mean to be, and Scott seems to retreat from me, his expression a neutral mask.

“It was nice to meet you,” I say softly, eager to get out of here now. But his expression falls then, the corners of his lips tugging down and I know if those sunglasses weren’t on, he wouldn’t be able to look at me. He’s thought about it, he’d wouldn’t be _human_ if he didn’t.

“I do think about it…”

Scott is still holding the photo like it’s the most fragile thing in the world. “I think about it all the time. Our work…” he breaks off, as if he’s just realized what he’s saying and to whom. He coughs uncomfortably.

“He doesn’t think about it like that. He wants to know about the life he’s forgotten. I’m not going to bring up anything else. I don’t need to.”

I admire that determination in his voice, though I doubt it’s going to last. It’s going to sit there, in the back of his mind, and some time when he least expects it, he’s going to wonder what Logan will see when he looks back on their relationship.

“He wants to know everything about his past, don’t ever think otherwise. You’re proof of his life before now. He wants to believe you, even if he gives you a hard time.”

It helps hearing that, more so than I want to admit. Scott moves past me to open the door, holding it open for me until I pass through.

“He doesn’t love easily,” he says softly, like it’s a secret only we should share, “but don’t ever doubt that he does.”

“I know,” I reply, wishing I could see his eyes. He offers me a hesitant smile, before Logan interrupts.

“Ready?” Logan asks, looking between Scott and I in curiously.

I nod, not wanting to let him in on our conversation in his absence. I exchange a knowing glance with Scott and I know he’s not going to say anything either.

This is one secret we can share.


End file.
